This post discusses some medical stuff. It’s not graphic and is supposed to be funny but if you don’t care for that sort of thing or don’t like over-sharing, you might want to skip it. 🙂

As the title suggests, whew-wee busy weekend around here! Good times.

Friday morning I had another ultrasound and some more blood work. Everything seemed good.

I rushed home to get the Passat so I could go to my Doctor’s appointment and then take the car for service.

At 1:20 I was sitting in the Doctor’s office on the verge of my usual panic attack when Judy fetched me from the waiting area.

She led me back the long hall to the dreaded chair where they check blood pressure. I plopped myself down and Judy made a little comment.

“You remember?” I asked surprised she remembered how flipped out I get at the blood pressure machine.

“Oh, yes, I remember very well,” she laughed.

“Well, might as well get to it,” I said offering her my arm.

I am apparently legendary.

She strapped the cuff on my arm, turned on the machine, and walked away to answer the phone.

When she returned, her brow furrowed at the reading on the machine. “Uh Oh. It’s really bad.”

“How bad?” I giggled nervously.

“157 over 94,” She said.

“I’ve had worse,” I shrugged. “Take it again?”

Already it was down to 127 over 82.

“That’s still not good you know,” she laughed.

“I know. But I’ll bet if you take it again, it will be normal. See what a freak I am?”

She wouldn’t indulge me a third reading.

“Urine sample?” She said rolling her eyes at my freak comment.

“Not yet.” I said. “I’ll do it now.”

“When you’re done, I’ll meet you in room five,” she said.

I took care of business but when I exited, I couldn’t for the life of me locate the little tray that used to be outside of the restroom. What happened to that thing? It’s where I used to put the urine sample.

There wasn’t anyone around to ask so I waddled up the hall with my cup o’ pee towards room five. Since most of the doors were open, I couldn’t easily find room five either. I ended up wandering past a physician’s office twice. Please don’t let me see that guy. He’s going to think I’m definitely an unfit mother. . .idiot aimlessly wandering the halls with a cup of urine.

I finally found Judy in room five. She glanced disapprovingly at my urine sample.

“I um, I wasn’t sure where to put this?”

“There’s a cabinet in the wall behind the toilet,” she said. “It goes in there.”

How the hell was I supposed to know to put my pee in the thing that looked like a locked stainless steel door above the toilet? Tell me how that’s an intuitive next step in the urine testing procedures? Is it just me? There wasn’t even a SIGN!

“Oh. I’ll do it now,” I mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Hey, is this new?” I screamed while walking back down the hall, ignoring the poor Doctor’s alarmed glance as I once again wandered past his open office door.

“No.” I could hear Judy sigh.

Back in the room we go through the usual questions and answers. I told Judy everything seemed ok except for that nagging bleeding I was experiencing.

“I’ll be sure to tell the Doctor,” she said. “Everything comes off. Gown goes on. And here’s a sheet for your legs. I’ll be back with the Doctor shortly.”

I couldn’t figure out which way the gown went on. Open in the front? Open in the back? I frantically tried it both ways twice hoping the Doctor didn’t walk in at that moment.

I finally settled on open in the front, using the logic that no one would put those stupid ties in the back of a garment. How would anyone every tie them behind their back?

I barely had time to vault myself back onto the table when the Doctor and Judy knocked on the door. “Come in,” I called pretending perhaps they were just dinner guests I was so happy to see.

Of course it was the Doctor I had wandered past three times in the hall minutes earlier. Great. . .

He told me I looked great. My ultra sounds looked great. Everything seemed fine. We discussed my last pap test and the fact that I was due for one in October. He said since I’d never had an irregular pap test, he’d rather wait until after the baby was born in November if I was comfortable with that since there was no point in doing any unnecessary procedures while pregnant.

As if anyone needs to talk me OUT of a medical test or procedure? Score!

Of course this didn’t get me home free. He still needed to play an unpleasant game of peek-a-boo with my innards. Ugh.

Whatever he was doing down there seemed to be taking a decent amount of time. And for not doing any kind of test there sure appeared to be a lot of Q-tip and sample tube back and forth going on between him and Judy.

My heart was racing. Something was wrong.

“Ok.” He said as his head finally popped up from the sheet covering my knees. Why the hell they give you a sheet at all is beyond me? Really. It doesn’t make anyone feel any better.

“The good news is, I finally know why you are bleeding.”

I felt those 12 Starbursts and the banana I ate on the way to the appointment lurch into my throat. There’s bad news?

Please don’t put me on bed rest. I’ll be suicidal. I mean it. I cannot go on bed rest. I have a toddler at home.

“It’s coming from a growth on your cervix.”

Damnit! This is why I hate doctors. They ALWAYS find a problem. ALWAYS!

“But I don’t think it’s anything to worry too much about. If you weren’t pregnant, I’d probably just remove it today and see. . .”

This guy seemed as twitchy as I am. . .I was really starting to like him.

“Ok. Well, if you don’t think I have to worry, then I won’t worry.” I smiled at him, anxious to get dressed and out of there.

“It’s not uncommon,” he said. “It doesn’t look menacing. I’m almost happy to have found a reason you are bleeding and know it’s not at all related to the baby. This way we know the baby, the uterus, and so forth are perfectly fine.”

Made sense to me. No point worrying. This is out of my control, right?

“We can talk more in my office after you get dressed.”

Well how very classy of you, twitchy little man. It’s a date!

He left and no sooner had Judy cleared out most of his torture devices than there was a knock at the door.

Dr. Twitchy stumbled back in. He glanced at his shoes. “If it’s um, okay with you, I think I had better do the pap test. It’s a very conservative move but I think since you have that growth on your cervix we had better just be safe.”

Despite being pants-less, I finally felt like I had a little power.

“Just when I had started to breathe normally?” I laughed. “You come back with this? Look, poor Judy just cleaned up everything!”

He laughed nervously.

“I want you to be cautious. If you tell me I should have a pap test, let’s do it. I’m still on this stupid table.”

He sat back down at the end of the table. Judy got everything out again.

“You know,” he laughed, “there’s no additional charge for this.”

“How kind of you,” I groaned, “Talk about a great value.”

A few minutes later, I made my way to his office.

I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in a Doctor’s actual office sitting across the desk from him or her. It’s odd. And it’s even more bizarre after said Doctor just saw parts of you that you don’t even want to see yourself.

He started going through my medical history.

“You have fibroids?” he asked.

“I otta punch you,” I blurted out.

Silence.

“Look,” I rushed to explain, “That’s been a huge joke ever since I had the first kid. I have NEVER been told I have fibroids. But everyone keeps asking me about them. No one can actually tell me if I DO have them. They just keep asking.”

“Oh. . .Well it’s on your chart.”

“I’m acutely aware it’s on my chart. . .I just have no idea why. You saw my scans, do I have fibroids?”

“No. You don’t appear to have fibroids. That’s why I find this so curious. It’s even on your discharge paperwork,” he snorted.

“Why is this on here?” he mumbled as he fumbled with the keyboard.

“My sister has fibroids. Maybe you just want to alter the note to say someone in the family has fibroids?” I deadpanned.

“I’m going to try to make it go away,” he said pecking at the keyboard. “I’m not confident it WILL go away. But I’ll try.”

“Thanks. So you’re sure I don’t have fibroids?”

“If no one ever told you you have fibroids, you don’t have fibroids.”

“And you can’t find any on the ultrasounds? RIGHT?!”

“Correct.”

Having cleared that up, sorta, we moved along to genetic counseling.

“So you had your first trimester screens this morning. We’re waiting on blood work but so far everything looks just fine,” he said.

“Great. Thank you.”

“Now did you want any other kind of screening or counseling?”

“Oh. No. We thought only the basic stuff was necessary. I have that paper,” I said rooting through my big bag.

The paper was a consent form signed by both Chris and me stating we were declining genetic carrier testing for a slew of rare genetic conditions.

I slid it across the desk.

He looked at it for a few seconds, confusion registering on his face.

“But you’re Catholic right?”

“Well my Husband is Catholic. I attend Church with him but I’m a Protestant.” Where is this going?

“What’s your ancestry?” He asked.

Look, I realize you’ve just had your hands all over my uterus but do we really need to get this personal?

“My heritage is predominately Scottish and Irish,” I said.

“So you’re not Jewish?”

Is there a hidden camera in this room? Really? Where’s the damned camera?

“Correct. To the best of my knowledge, no one in my family is Jewish.”

“And your Husband is not Jewish?”

“Correct. He’s Catholic.”

“Well, how did you get this paper?” the Doctor asked bewildered.

“They gave it to me at my nurse’s visit? Told me to complete it and return it.” I said, completely confused at this point.

“Oh. This paper is for Jewish folks. These are genetic conditions that seem to be more common in the Jewish population. Why did they think you were Jewish?” He laughed.

“I don’t know?” I said. “I wouldn’t mind being Jewish. . .” I mumbled. He’s Jewish. I didn’t want him to think I had a problem with being Jewish. . .which I certainly do not. Oh dear. I just want to get the car serviced already.

“Well, it’s a good thing you declined the testing. Had you wanted it, I would have had some explaining to do,” he laughed again.

Right. Like this hasn’t been painful enough.

“Well, when do you want your next ultrasound?” He asked.

“Um, I was kinda’ hoping you’d tell me when I should have another ultrasound?”

“Well, the last pregnancy, we took a very conservative approach in making sure the baby’s heart developed properly. I’m not as worried with this pregnancy so whatever you feel comfortable with,” he said.

Oh if he only knew, I’d be a home-birther in a heartbeat if it wasn’t so damned painful and messy.

After about 3 minutes of scribbling and crossing out stuff on my nurse’s slip, “Let’s go a month,” he said. “That will be 18 weeks. That’s a little later than last time but I think it will be fine.”

“Great!” I exclaimed standing up and snatching the paper off the desk. “See you next month!”

I shook Dr. Twitchy’s hand, surveying the room one more time for hidden cameras. . .

Later that evening Chris and Mac surprised me with some new, really nice binoculars as an early Mother’s Day and birthday gift. I was surprised since I hadn’t even thought I needed new binoculars. But they are amazing. . .So great I almost forgot about my lumpy cervix, bad blood pressure, and bizzaro doctor’s appointment.

4 Responses to “In Which Reluctant Mother Gets a Pap Test and New Binoculars”

I feel for you on that junk! I have what has always jokingly been referred to as ‘White Coat Syndrome’- my heart rate skyrockets at the dr. Fun things don’t happen there, I can’t be calm! They may tell me bad news. Or even worse, they may tell me I’m nuts and there’s nothing wrong with me and suck it up. Either way, nice steady pulse is not happening.

So glad to hear that babe is looking healthy despite the bleeding!Anita @ Losing Austin recently posted…Rewind: The Bad One

Yes! Yes! Yes! You are spot on! I apparently have the worst case of “White Coat Syndrome” this practice of medical professionals have ever seen. I just can’t help it. I’ve been that way since I was practically born. I was always just terrified of the doctor.

Thanks! I have this feeling this birth is going to be so boring, we’re all going to be disappointed. Ok. That’s not a feeling. I’m desperately hoping this birth will be that boring! Ha.

I really need to get a couple of things done this morning so I’m probably doing a small post. . .and I cannot get the story about your MIL and Daughter out of my head. I’m planning to link to it. Priceless!